Strange Magic
by Startisparticus2017
Summary: His patience thin as a strand of thread dealing with the demonic entity called his partner. Can Starsky get to the bottom of what is wrong with Hutch? This story has been beta read by Sandy. I want to thank Sandy and Maryellen for their continued support. This story was prompted by Mickey LW and a picture she created and posted. Thank you for allowing me to create.


STARSKY & HUTCH

STRANGE MAGIC

(Prompted by a photo from Mickey LW posted on SHFAFF)

 **A disclaimer:** ** _I do not own the characters/song associated or make a profit off the stories; the story is for entertainment purposes only_** **.**

It was nearing midnight. The sound of waves crashed on the beach. The Torino was parked on the edge of the sand and parking lot asphalt. Starsky sat on the hood of the car elbows propped on his knees. He leaned forward with his feet perched on the shiny chrome bumper and clasped his hands. The moon was bright. His eyes sparkled as he gazed ahead. Sadness and exhaustion plagued the usually exuberant detective.

The past month had been grueling with numerous homicides, rapes and long hours. David Starsky was feeling the backlash of burnout and needed some much needed alone time. Both detectives were on pins and needles with cases and each other. The bitter taste of frustration slammed the brunet. He was tired, and feeling the effects of a beating without physical contact. His patience thin as a strand of thread dealing with the demonic entity called his partner.

The police radio dispatch called out for Zebra three. Starsky bowed his head and sighed as he slid off the car and walked with little to no enthusiasm to the driver's side. Hesitantly he reached in to grasp the microphone. "This is Zebra three, go ahead." The breeze wisped the dark curls as he waited with displayed rigid shoulders.

"Zebra three to tac two." The radio cut the eerie silence.

Starsky leaned in and switched the channel to tac two. He folded his arms over his chest and raised the microphone to his lips. "Zebra three on tac two."

The familiar voice of one blond partner called over the radio. "Where the hell are you? I've been driving around for an hour." The question held irritation.

Starsky shook his head. "What are ya, my mother?" The usual sarcasm failed to surface, and tension held its vice-grip grasp.

There was a moment of brief silence. "No I'm not your mother. I do happen to be your partner. I-I'm sorry about what I said earlier." The words were spoken with heavy heart.

Starsky's rubbed his lips with the back of his hand that held the microphone. "I'm headin' home. I'll see ya in the mornin'. I'm sorry too." He tossed the microphone onto the car seat then opened the door and slid into the car as though he was weighted down. The brunet grasped the steering wheel tightly exposing white knuckles. "Why am I apologizin'? What is going on with ya, Hutch?"

Starsky knew Hutch's mood was worse. He held hope it was due to the hours and cases they had been investigating. The 'mood' followed with changes in his behavior and appearance. The blond wore his hair longer with the addition of a mustache. His tolerance and patience no longer present. Starsky was walking on eggshells around his partner and didn't know how much more he could handle.

The brunet tried to remember when it all changed, Hutch changed. It had always been about trust flavored with me and thee. Perhaps it was the loss of the women they loved, Terry and Gillian. Maybe it was the bone-chilling fear of almost losing one another either by poison or drugs at the hands of devious sick individuals. The blame was not all on the blond's shoulders. They were still partner's and best friends, but something had changed, and it scared Starsky.

The incident with Luke Huntley, Hutch's former partner shook the blond tremendously when Huntley tried to take care of his wife's gambling debts the illegal way. Then Marianne Owens, a lounge singer whose brother was into racketeering. The blond fell for her and took the challenge of the case on his own deliberately leaving his partner out. Then there was Lionel Rigger, Huggy's friend. He was assassinated on their watch. This resulted in almost losing Huggy's trust and friendship and quitting the force. What left Starsky unsettled was that his partner was going to quit without telling him. It was only by chance he found him at the beach, and they tossed their badges into the ocean.

"Ah Blintz, what's happened to us? I don't know how to fix this, you…us." Starsky glared out the window of his car door. His eyes squinted and lips pressed together in worry. A vision of his partner wearing that crazy guitar shirt flashed. The shoulders slumped almost deflated. "I'm gettin' to know your backside; you've been walking away too much lately. Maybe ya just sick of me?"

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Hutch arrived at Ridgeway early and pulled to the curb to see his partner sitting on the stairs. Hutch took a second look; this was not Starsky's style. The brunet jumped to his feet and swaggered over to the passenger side and entered. Hutch frowned. "I'm thirty minutes early. Who are you and what have you done with my partner?"

The blond shifted the car into drive and pulled a powdered donut from the brown paper bag on the seat. He took a bite out of the donut and smiled as he drove. "You know something Starsk; I hate to admit it, these donuts are good." The powder covered his lips and chin.

The grin that had formed on the brunet's face faded, yet another trait that had changed with his longtime partner. The health food and days of jogging are now a memory. Starsky glanced briefly at the brown paper bag then the man driving the car. "That's what I've been tellin' ya all along. Who are you and what have you done with my partner?" The question was asked with humor; unfortunately deep down he was genuinely concerned.

Hutch frowned and looked at his partner. He for the first time noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes and forced a smile. "Did you get any sleep? You look like you might have slept on those steps."

Starsky leaned on the door and sighed. "An hour, maybe two. I couldn't get yesterday's scene out of my head. You know what I mean?"

The blond knew what he meant. The body of two children found in their beds, ages four and seven shot by their father. He was located outside the house with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. That was one of the reasons they were on edge, the other was the Oscar-winning performance the blond gave when it all became too much to handle. The moment he lashed out at everyone in sight including his partner. "I'm sick of this Starsky. The murders, rapes and these innocent children died because the system failed. All you can do is stand there and write on your damn notepad. Is that going to bring them back? You haven't said a thing. You haven't even reacted. You're standing there with no expression. I suppose your duty in Nam would make this just another day and another corpse."

This weighed heavily on Hutch's conscience. "Yeah, I know what you mean. No magic eraser to remove those visions from your mind or heart." The response slipped past Hutch's lips softly as though he were in deep thought. "I was out of line. W-What I said."

Starsky reached into the bag and extracted a chocolate donut and took a bite. He chewed and closed his eyes with a delightful grin. "Ya apologized. Today's another day. Ya got me double chocolate? Thanks, Blondie." The smile and appreciation poured through his words.

A smile formed on Hutch's face as he drove. "Just for you, Buddy." Hutch had a sudden rush of overwhelming guilt. His jaw tensed. He thought to himself, how can this man sitting beside me do that, forgive and go on as though nothing happened?

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Captain Dobey exited the elevator as he adjusted his tan and brown striped tie. He noticed his two star detectives ahead of him and picked up his pace. "I want you two in my office." His words were growled.

The partners were startled to a halt as their Captain rushed past them. They glanced momentarily at each other and shrugged their shoulders and followed. Once in the office, they sat with the brunet to the left and his partner to the right. The Captain who held the door open stepped forward slamming the door abruptly. Once again, two sets of blue eyes met in question. The Captain sat in his large leather creaking chair. His eyebrows rose. "Listen, I know the past month has been tough on all of us. The last thing I need is for complaints finding their way to the Chief. What is going on with you two?"

Hutch slid down slightly in the chair and puckered his lips in embarrassment. "I was out of line, Captain. It won't happen again." He bowed his head.

Starsky leaned to one side supporting his head with his hand as his elbow sat on the arm of the chair. He took in a deep breath. "We were out of line, Captain. It won't happen again."

Hutch frowned and looked at his partner. "Starsky, what are you doing? You know I was the one who lost his temper and made a scene. You don't need to cover for me. So knock it off, will you? I'm to blame, and that is that." The blond's shoulders were rigid, his eyes glossed with anger.

The Captain leaned forward and placed his hands on his desk. He glanced briefly at the quiet brunet who appeared to be brooding. Starsky bit his bottom lip and stretched his arms forward to adjust his leather jacket. "Fine, won't happen again." He spoke calmly, but the words smacked like a baseball bat against a home run.

The Captain cleared his throat and pointed at his detectives. "I want the two of you to work out whatever this is that is going on between the two of you. This behavior could cloud your judgment and get one of you killed. Now get out of my office, file your reports from yesterday's incident. If you can't work out your differences, I can make arrangements to reassign you new partners." The large-framed man's eyes scanned the detectives before him.

Starsky stood abruptly and went to the door. "The way things are going…" He stopped mid sentence and took a deep breath. "I need some air." The words weren't thunderous but made an impact. The door swung open and slammed behind the brunet as he left.

Hutch sat with his mouth open; he closed his eyes as the door slammed.

The Captain sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead roughly. "Starsky get back in here. I'm not done with you?" His voice carried and enveloped the small space. "Do you have something to add?"

Hutch sat up and leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees. He shook his head and sighed. "I don't blame him, Captain. I've been a real jerk. I-I don't know what the hell is going on with me." His voice trembled slightly. "This is the first time Starsky's reacted, well since Kira."

Kira was the final straw, the wedge between the partners. The two and half week of undercover work both in bed and the dance hall created the divide of me without thee. The woman was a beautiful boa constrictor and squeezed what she could from the two detectives. Hutch already on a downslide thought she might be the answer to his plunging mental status. Starsky blindsided by what he thought was love. Starsky declared his love, Hutch needed to hear it from Kira and fell into her constricting arms. The brunet found Hutch at Kira's which resulted in feelings of betrayal, hurt and a fight. The result, they were looking for love with the wrong woman. That was over a month ago. Starsky did what he'd always done, forgive.

The chair squeaked and creaked as the Captain sat back. He played with a black pen on the desk. "I can set up an appointment with the department shrink. Do the two of you need a break?"

The blond rubbed his hands together. "I don't know, maybe. No!"

Silence hung in the room for a moment. The Captain leaned forward. "My door is always open, Ken. Why don't you get that paperwork caught up?" The ordinarily loud boisterous voice was calm.

Hutch nodded and rose to his feet. His usual tall stance seemed shrunken as he left the Captain's office.

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Starsky had draped his leather jacket over the back of his office chair. He sat and began to collate the scattered file folders. He retrieved a pencil from the container on the shared desk. Hutch sat at his desk typing. The room was filled with tension; all eyes were on the two uncharacteristically quiet detectives. Starsky grabbed a handful of folders and walked over toward the file cabinet to his left and tripped on the leg of the table. The brunet caught his balance on the shared desk which caused Hutch's coffee to splash the neatly placed paper work. Hutch looked over fiercely and back to the typewriter. "Walk much, Tinkerbelle? Perhaps it's your juvenile New York egotistical street punk walk or knuckle-dragging that hinders you from walking like a normal human being. Would you be careful, Starsky?"

Starsky regained his balance and placed the folders on top of the cabinet. He turned and walked over to the coffee station and retrieved a few napkins. He took a deep breath and fought the humiliation from the sarcastic insults that came from his partner. He walked back to his desk and leaned over and blotted the coffee that spilled. "It was just an accident. There ya go, just like new." He attempted to tame the lion before him with a positive attitude. This was neither the time nor place to ignite his fuse.

The blond ignored the comment and continued to type.

Starsky looked at the clock which read noon. He smirked. "I'm hungry; ya want anything from the cafeteria?"

He was met with steel blue eyes of annoyance. "No, I don't want anything from the cafeteria, Starsky! You know if you did as much typing and filing as you do eating we would have been out of here three hours ago. Come to think of it, if you had focused on your report and dotted the I's and crossed the T's. I wouldn't constantly be editing and retyping your damn reports." Although his voice was low, the words sent a chill through the office.

Starsky's shoulders slumped and his smile faded. He stood there for a moment feeling dejected and embarrassed. The room broke out into laughter. Starsky walked away slowly with a look of devastation.

Hutch continued to type as a smile came across his face. He pulled the document from the typewriter and glanced over it. He placed the paper on his desk and grabbed his coffee cup and made his way over for a refill.

Starsky strolled in with a tray that housed a sizeable loaded pastrami sandwich, bag of chips and two cartons of chocolate milk. He carefully placed the tray on his desk and sat. Hutch walked back over to his desk and sat. He reached for another form and carefully rolled it into place in the typewriter carriage and began to type.

The brunet opened the bag of potato chips which appeared to irritate his partner. He blushed and continued by placing a chip into his mouth and chewed.

Hutch stopped typing and turned to look. "Do you mind?"

All eyes were now on the brunet once again. Starsky smirked and continued to eat. He grasped his sandwich and bit a healthy chunk. Hutch responded with a tone of irritation and rigid jawline. "You know something, Starsky? A cafeteria was named and created as a place to retrieve and eat your food. You might want to try it sometime? Oh, try chewing with your mouth closed. I swear I'm back in Duluth listening to my grandfather's favorite heifer chewing cud."

The room erupted with laughter. Starsky finished chewing. He took a deep breath and tamed the rise of anger and hurt. He stood and took the tray with both hands delicately and turned. The chocolate milk carton fell and splashed and poured onto the tray. Hutch ejected from his chair wiping the sleeve of his shirt. "Starsky, what the hell is wrong with you? The report is ruined. You are such an idiot. You're a total imbecile. Why I put up with you, I don't know."

Starsky placed the tray down and grabbed a bundle of napkins and wiped the desk and papers. He soaked up the remains in the tray. He focused on the task at hand although he felt the sting of many eyes watching.

Hutch continued his tirade as he crumpled the paperwork. "Sometimes I feel like I'm dealing with a child. I take that back, I am dealing with a child in a man's body. I spend more time covering up for you and your antics. Don't stand there looking at me. Do I have to clean this mess up for you too?"

Starsky bowed his head and reached for his jacket and put it on. He didn't look at Hutch or anyone in the room. His hands trembled as he reached for the tray. He hesitated as he looked at the tray. "Ya forgot moron, loser and mush brain. Dobey made you an offer; maybe ya should take it." His tone was calm. He headed out the door swiftly.

Hutch raised his arms up and placed his hands on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and mumbled to himself. "Oh god, what have I done?"

A female voice from behind startled him. He turned to meet a pair of black-rimmed glasses. "What did you say, Minnie?"

She had her arms crossed over her chest. "I said what you've done is embarrass and humiliate your partner." Her voice was just above a whisper. "You have been on him like a fly to manure. What has gotten into you, honey? If I didn't know you better, I'd swear you were trying to get him to walk away from you for good."

Hutch looked out the double doors hoping that Starsky would return. "I'm sorry, Minnie. I need to talk to him." He reached and touched her shoulder as he walked through the doors.

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Hutch sat at his desk with a brown paper bag before him. He put the finishing touches on the reports. He placed them into a file folder and made his way to the Captain's office. His eyes searched for the wall clock which read 8:45 am. A brief knock evoked a deep growl on the other side of the door. The blond turned the knob and entered. "Morning Captain. The reports you wanted." He placed the folder down on the desk and headed for the exit.

"Hutch, close the door and have a seat." The request was not an order.

Hutch gently closed the door and made his way to the chair on the right. He sat and sensed something wasn't quite right. "What is it, Captain?"

Captain Dobey appeared to be uncomfortable and unsettled. He sat back in his leather chair and took a deep breath. His eyes rose to meet two very inquisitive, blue, pools. "Starsky called in sick."

Hutch's looked away as sadness overtook his features. He sat back and placed his elbow on the chair and pinched his top lip in thought.

The Captain leaned forward with his elbows on the desk and hands clasped. "We both know he is not sick." Once again a calm and soft tone emanated from his superior.

The chair creaked beneath the blond man in thought as his fingers now rubbed his forehead. He nodded agreeing with his Captain. Sudden feelings of isolation enveloped along with fear. Starsky always called him to tell him he was sick or not coming in and to cover for him.

The Captain gazed his dark, worried eyes with direct focus at the man before him. "Ken, your partner has requested a leave of absence."

Shock and adrenaline overtook Hutch's body. He abruptly stood and placed his hands on the Captain's desk. "He what?" He shouted, and pushed himself away from the desk and began to pace. "No…you can't allow this, Captain, you can't. What have I done?"

The large leather chair squeaked as Captain Dobey sat back. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "I haven't signed off on anything yet." The Captain sat back. "I'll stall for as long as I can, but HR is going to need an answer by Monday. Take the next three days. We have the painters coming in two weeks from then. Oh and Hutch, whatever this is I can't allow it continue."

Hutch acknowledged him. His superior was taking a significant risk. He knew this meant he'd be forced to speak to the department shrink. If his partner took a leave of absence, would he return? Questions flooded his mind and made his heart race with anxiety and fear. Hutch exited the office.

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The Galaxie was pushed to her limits but arrived in record time and screeched to a halt in front of Starsky's place. The Torino sat sparkling in the mid-morning sunlight. The hood was open with a bucket and variety of wash mitts and a garden hose. Hutch exited the car and quickly made it to the passenger side of the vehicle. The Torino was on car jack stands, and his partner's legs stuck out below the front bumper.

The blond placed his nervous hands in his coat pocket. "Starsk?"

Underneath the car, focused on the task at hand, the brunet pulled a pan to drain the oil. He lay on his back and waited. "What do ya want, Hutch?" The question asked casually. He slid inward to grasp a tool to secure the plug for the oil reservoir.

Bowing his head the blond sighed. "I was hoping we could talk. How are you feeling?"

Sliding on a homemade mechanic's creeper beneath him, Starsky pushed himself out and rose to his feet wiping his hands on a shop cloth. He wandered over and grabbed a funnel and a few cans of oil and guided a missing front tire toward the car. The tire rolled and hit the bumper causing the car to move. He inserted the funnel and began to pour the oil from the can. "I'm not sick, but thanks for askin'. Ya wanna talk so talk." Slightly winded he continued the task at hand. The tire toppled over near the car hitting the jack into car jack stand.

Hutch pulled his hands from his pockets then placed them on the fender and leaned. The car shifted and squeaked. Fear or intuition made him kick the tire under the vehicle further. "Do you really think this is safe? Dobey says you want to take a leave of absence."

Starsky focused on pouring the oil into the funnel. He dropped a wrench from his hand which fell through the engine and onto the ground. "I can't afford to take it to Merle's. Yeah, I think we both could use the break." His attention was on the location of the tool he dropped.

The blond was stunned with his partner's response. He sighed. "We are partners or did you forget that tiny detail? Were you planning on discussing this with me?" There was an edge to his voice.

Gurgling came from the can of oil as Starsky pulled it away and tossed it into a trash barrel. Awkwardly he stumbled over the tire and kicked it in further. "Say's the man who was going to quit without telling his partner. The same man who gets himself busted up over a lounge singer and leaves his partner in the dark. Ya kept important information from me because you were too busy angling your way into Kira's bed." Pent-up emotions slipped through a firm jaw and gritted teeth. Starsky lay back down on the car creeper and slid under the car.

Hutch rubbed the back of his neck and began to pace. "Oh, that's just great. I knew you'd bring her back up again. I should have known. I apologized for that, Starsky. I thought we were past all of that?"

Under the car, Starsky pushed the oil pan out from under the car and tinkered with the wrench he retrieved. "Well Blondie, you've been on a roller coaster of highs and lows and utilizin' everythin' in your path as a punchin' bag. I've had more punches than Mohammad Ali. Truth is, I get the feelin' ya tired of bein' a cop, and the only reason you came back was because of me. Now ya blamin' me or maybe just sick of me." The wrench fell from Starsky's hand and hit the ground loudly.

The blond's feet scurried back and forth along the car and his finger pointed in the direction of the car. "You know something Starsky, maybe you're right. I am tired of being a cop. I'm tired of the system and not making a difference. Kids are dying, hookers overdosing and rape victims are being blamed for being raped. I have had it with it all, including you. Take your leave of absence. Don't rush back on my account." He formed a fist and swung at no particular object and walked toward his car.

Starsky closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Hutch?" He grasped the bumper to pull himself out from underneath the car. The sound of metal scraping and creaking startled Starsky. The Torino shifted and slipped off one of the metal supports onto the brunet pinning his chest. "H…utch." He gasped.

Already at his car, the sound of metal scraping stopped Hutch in his tracks. He turned and watched the car slide sideways. The blond's legs sprinted into action. Now on all fours, he placed his face on the ground and saw his partner's hand motionless and reached for it. "Starsk, easy…easy. Slow easy breaths."

The once motionless fingers lightly squeezed to indicate he understood. Hutch scurried to his feet. The car jack was not engaged, the tire was holding the car from crushing his partner. He carefully slid the car jack next to his partner's body and the tire. He began the task of priming the jack. The car slowly started the rise. "Starsky don't move, okay? We're almost there." His breath labored.

Once he felt the car was successfully off his partner's chest, the blond sprung into action. He pulled Starsky's feet and rolled him out from under the car. Hutch knelt beside his partner and quickly assessed the injuries. There appeared to be a small cut on the brunet's forehead to the left. "Hey, Buddy? Are you with me? Open your eyes?" Trembling fingers touched the neck area. "Starsky, breath dammit!"

Almost upon queue, Starsky was breathing; his eyelids fluttered to debut the brilliance of indigo blue. Hutch placed his hand on his partner's chest and sighed in relief. The rush of adrenaline sent tingling through his body. Trembling fingers touched the cut on his partner's forehead. "You've got a nasty cut. How's your chest?"

Starsky touched his chest area, coughed. His breathing no longer constricted. "I don't think anythin's broken." His response followed with another cough.

Hutch couldn't move; he trembled inside and out. He couldn't get his breath, and his head spun. He closed his eyes and tried to regain his composure and balance. Starsky touched his partner's arm with concern. "Hey, you okay? Are ya hurt?"

The dazed blond bowed his head and chuckled. "I'm not hurt dummy, you are." He took a deep breath as sadness tarnished his features. "I'm not okay, Starsk. I'm not okay. It took a car landing on your chest to make me realize I am far from okay." His watery eyes met his partner's. "You think you can get up?"

The blond rose to his feet and extended his hand to assist his partner who was a little unstable and guided him up the stairway.

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Starsky sat on the couch with a cloth filled with ice cubes against his head. He rubbed his chest gently against his now clean blue v-neck shirt. The phone rang. Stiffly he reached behind and pulled the handset off and placed it to his ear. "H-lo"

At the other end was Huggy. He was on a payphone at the back of The Pitts. "Starsky, the light to your dark was here. Captain Marvelous is bench pressin' the tomato I hear?"

Starsky laughed and leaned his head back. "She's beautiful but heavy."

The tall, dark man leaned against the wall. "Tall, blond, and no longer vicious is on his way with two Huggy Bear specials." The smile disappeared. "Blondie appears to have lost his evil twin. I hope for his sake and yours it stays away, ya know what I mean? He mentioned you were taking a leave of absence, is that true?"

The brunet raised his head and pursed his lips. "It's true Hug. I need Hutch back, not this imposter with a bad attitude. He said he wants to talk. I don't know. Something happened when I was stuck under the car. He was back."

Huggy smirked as he played with his neckerchief. "I know one thing, Curly, a guitar without strings is just a fancy piece of wood. When you connect them, they make beautiful music. It's strange magic, strange magic. Whatever's goin on with him seems you are the answer. Ya know where I am?"

Starsky smiled. "Thanks, Hug." He took a deep breath and grinned slightly with discomfort as he placed the handset into the cradle. "Guitar and strings? Wonder which one I am?"

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The apartment was dark when the blond returned and parked the beater behind the Torino. Grabbing the brown paper bag and pack of beer, he exited the car and noticed a dark-colored sedan parked in front a vacant house. His cop instincts kicked in and suspicion made him take a second look. The car backed into the driveway and took a right in the opposite direction. It was dusk and challenging to make the color or license plate.

The feeling something wasn't quite right stirred within Hutch as he walked toward the stairway. His attention was caught by the sight of the Torino still propped by the jack. Like a slideshow, the earlier drama unfolded. The blond licked his lips and gently bit his bottom lip in thought as he walked up the stairway. Switching the large paper bag to his other arm holding the six-pack of beer he opened the door to a dark room. "Starsk?"

The click of the light switch exposed his partner fast asleep in the same position he was earlier with a cloth on his forehead and long ago melted ice. Hutch went to the kitchen and placed the beer in the fridge then removed the containers from the paper bag. Still unsettled from what he felt to be someone watching, he went to the window and glanced both ways.

The sleepy figure on the couch watched his partner curiously. "What is it?"

The blond jumped and shook his head. "You scared the hell out of me. Did you happen to notice a dark-colored sedan parked up the street at the vacant picket fence house? He glanced back out the window.

The brunet tossed the wet towel onto the kitchen table. "KL5 00N, rental vehicle, dark green and two expensive suits. I noticed two nights ago. I called the rental company they claim its Shady Tree Realty." He replied as he finished a yawn.

The blond stood before him with his arms crossed. "You don't sound convinced. Why didn't you tell me?"

Starsky awkwardly stood and walked toward the kitchen table and sat. "I wanted to make sure it was somethin' worth tellin'. Guts tellin' me trouble." He rubbed the side of his head as though in pain.

The blond fidgeted with his dark brown suede jacket. "That makes two of us." He fumbled with the zipper. "Dobey gave us the rest of the weekend off." His fists tightened as he made his way to sit at the table next to his partner. "He wants me to see the department shrink." The nervousness trailed in his voice. Leaning and planting his elbow onto the table, Starsky propped his head on his hand. "Listen, I make some silly wisecracks about the shrink, ya know I don't really mean it? I used to help ya. I feel like I'm makin' it worse." He sighed deeply and briefly glared at the blond

"I'm just as much to blame. We always used to be about talkin', sharin' and we never did things without the other knowin'. That stupid game of hide-n-seek, ya got sick on that can of soup. I shoulda just told ya 'bout Gillian when I saw her in the massage parlor." The brunet closed his eyes and lifted his head and ran his hand down his face. His eyes focused on the man across from him.

"We got lost along the way, and it became real. Too real." Starsky leaned forward onto his knees and clasped his hands. He bowed his head and raised his eyes to meet his partner's wavering emotional stare. "I had practice in Nam. No 'what if' cause that would surely get ya killed. If I let what happen' there get to me, I wouldn't be here talkin' to ya. Hell, I still can't talk about it."

The brunet sat back up and gently rubbed his chest. He briefly looked at his partner. "I didn't know until today, Hutch. I didn't know how far we had drifted until you pulled me from that car and I heard your voice. I heard Hutch, my best friend, and partner and I knew I was goin' to be okay." He smiled with teary eyes.

Hutch wiped his eyes and rose to his feet and headed for the kitchen. "You must be hungry? Huggy put together fettuccini alfredo with grilled chicken and garlic bread." He continued to busy himself in the kitchen with his back to his friend.

Starsky bowed his head in disappointment and took a deep breath. "You go ahead." He stood somewhat unsteadily and went to the bathroom.

The bathroom door closing alerted the blond. Hutch tossed the dish towel onto the counter and made his way to the bathroom door. He rubbed the back of his neck with anxiety and anger. He couldn't understand why he just walked away into the kitchen. The man who avoided soapy scenes just poured his heart out to him. He took a deep breath and headed for the front door; he grasped the knob. "Starsk, I'm beat. If you need me call."

The bathroom door opened and Starsky emerged. He leaned against the door jam. "Hutch you're doing it again." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Answer one question. Is it me?"

The blond's jaw dropped as he released the doorknob then walked toward the bathroom and stood face to face with a very pale partner. "Yes, no…you haven't done anything, Starsk. Come on, you need some rest, you look like you're going to pass out." Hutch extended his hand to guide his partner.

Starsky put his hand up to block his assistance. "One minute you're here with me, then that wall comes up. Then the arrogant, self-righteous bastard makes his appearance. Talk to me, Hutch!" The words reflected the rigid jaw and raw emotions. "Do you want to be a cop? I get the feeling you're pushin' all my buttons, so I decide to end us. I ask for a leave of absence and ya suddenly feelin' guilty."

The rejected extended hand dropped to his side. His features expressed disappointment. "I can't Starsk, not now. I'm sorry." He turned to walk toward the door again.

The tension and emotion that clung to the air weighed heavily on both men. Starsky closed his eyes and cleared his throat. "Hutch, if ya walk out we're done."

The sound of the doorknob turning echoed, so much louder than it should. The blond held the doorknob with a vice grip, not able to move or breathe. Dizziness took over the tall blond along with panic and spiraling emotions of loss. The tears that once threatened to fall washed his face.

Starsky slid down the door jam and sat. His head was pounding, but he needed to get through to his partner. "Someone once told me we have strange magic. I know what ya feelin', buddy. All these feelings squeeze ya. One minute you're fine the next ya all panicky. Ya don't want to be close to anyone; ya push them away so you don't have to deal cause all ya wanna feel is numb. If you care too much ya might lose them, or ya fail, and their blood is on your hands. Ya feel like you're in a dark tunnel and ya can see the light, but it seems like it's so far away. Things that came naturally now are a struggle. You're always tired. One of my Nam buddies once said it's like times ten. It's bigger, heavier and badder than before." His voice trembled slightly and softened. "You're partner misses ya, Blondie. He gets it. Ya don't have to protect me from you."

The door closed gently. Silence hung in the air as Starsky closed his eyes and smirked. He opened them to Hutch crouching down and sitting next to him. "Strange magic? I guess my partner really does get it." Hutch raised his arm and placed it over Starsky's shoulder and pulled him to his chest.

The welcoming comfort from his best friend and partner pasted a full grin on his pale face. "Back to the basics of me and thee, Blintz. One day at a time. No secrets no matter how much it's gonna hurt."

Hutch wiped a stray tear. "What about your leave of absence?" He sniffed.

A faint snort and chuckle came from the brunet. "What leave of absence?" Starsky's smile faded. "What about the department's shrink?"

The blond cupped his hand on his partner's arm. "I'll give it a try. My partner's done an excellent job all on his own. You'd make a not-so-bad shrink." Hutch leaned his head onto the soft curls and bit his top lip. "I want to be a cop. This, whatever it is toying with my mind. I can't help feeling that one of these days…let's Not go there. You're right partner, one day at a time. Sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass. It has everything to do with you; it's who you are and what you have become to me. What if I fail, Starsk?" The fear quivered in his tone.

The brunet thought, his eyebrows lifted. "It goes both ways. I'm scared too, Hutch." He smirked as a frown formed. "Pain in the ass, let me tell ya something, you're as stubborn as a mule." The brunet slapped his partner's knee. "It's good to have ya back. If ya had a choice would ya want to be the guitar or the strings?

Hutch raised one eyebrow inquisitively as he pondered the question. "Strings, why do you ask?"

The brunet shrugged his shoulders. "Huggy says a guitar without strings is just a fancy piece of wood. When you connect them, they make beautiful music. That makes sense you being the strings because you can sing. A grin formed over his features. Did ya mention something about alfredo?"

A mutual smile emanated from both men.

ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhsssssssssssssssssss

A black limo with privacy glass slowly drove down Ridgeway and slowed down in front of Starsky's apartment. The silhouette of a man sat in the back seat. Two very well dressed men sat before him, but they could not see his face. "I want Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson terminated two weeks from this day. I want you to report to Mr. Bates when the task at hand has been completed." He leaned forward to make eye contact. He shuffled a gold chained necklace in his hands. "I want them dead. Do I make myself clear?"

The two well-suited men, both brunets, briefly glanced at one another. The older of the two smirked. "We understand, Mr. Gunther. It is possible that the blond one, Hutchinson saw us today."

Gunther's eyes widened and bulged. His face twitched with anger. "I want them dead, don't screw this up."

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhsssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Two weeks to the day James Michael Gunther ordered the hit.

"STARSKY GET DOWN…!"

It's just the beginning…not the end.


End file.
